Hourglass
by everybreatheverymove
Summary: She can't move on. It's been two years, but she knows that she'll never be able to get over him.


_When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure._

* * *

**(2010)**

**(December 16th, 1:23am)**

"You guys, we gotta go." she girl stated, holding a hand up against her boyfriend's chest to steady herself. He chuckled as she nearly fell to the ground, her feet twisting in her heels. "I'm serious." Her voice contradicted her words.

Rachel Berry was a serious person, most of the time. She never got too worked up over anything, she never got out of control. But today (well, last night) was different.

She's just turned eighteen, and she's been so for about 6 hours now. So yes, on her eighteenth birthday, Rachel Berry had had a bit too much to drink. It wasn't her fault though, really. She'd been ambushed into going to her friend Santana's house when she really should have been curled up and asleep in her bed, doing what her fathers had told her to. But when Finn, her boyfriend, had came to pick her up, she'd hadn't been able to contain herself. Of course it had to do with the fact that he'd gone all romantic and started throwing tiny stones up at her window, something Rachel had always told him she loved seeing in movies. He was the perfect friend, the perfect best friend. Perfect.

"Seriouslyyy?" Santana slured, her face creasing as she spoke. Her mouth morphed into a gnarl and she wandered over to the smaller girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "You know that I hate you..." she joked, whining at the fact that they were leaving.

Rachel grinned, planting a kiss down on her cheek, "Bye, San-San." she waved her off, roughly grabbing Finn's hand and trailing him out of the door.

"Bye you guys." She heard him yell from behind her, and she quickly turned around as the front door shut to the house. She took two steps forward and jumped up at him, to which her managed to hoist her legs up successfully around his waist. "You okay?" he asked, his voice mimicking a tease.

She girl smiled brightly at him, wrapping her arms carelessly around his neck and clasping her fingers as he walked them over towards his car. "I'm great," she started, shaking her head as she spoke, "I am great."

"That's... great."

He wasn't drunk, in fact he hadn't even had the smallest smell of alcohol throughout the whole night. He was simply in lack of another word.

With a small smirk up at him, she threw herself down onto the seat of his car once he had unlocked it. Finn raised an eyebrow, "You do realize I can't drive with you like that, right?" he asked her, grabbing her legs softly and moving them to the side before sitting himself down beside her, in the driver's seat. He closed the door and turned the keys in the ignition, starting the engine. Grasping a hand around the wheel, his right one found its place on her lap after she'd grabbed it, resting her head down on his shoulder.

The car ride started out silent, the only noise coming from the soft sound of the radio through the speakers. Jimmy Eat World's "Invented". She broke the quietness, nuzzling her head further into Finn's neck and grabbing his hand on her lap. She started toying with his fingers, threading them through her own. Finn smiled; she had a habit of doing that. Rachel bit her bottom lip, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. He turned his head to the side on an angle to look back at her and noticed the look in her eyes.

He grinned at her expression, "What?"

She didn't reply. Instead, her hands joined together to grasp his own on her lap. Finn made a note to keep his eyes on the road, to keep his driving hand gripped, as he felt his fingertips get dragged on the seat closer towards her center. Rachel moved her legs open slightly, placing the palm of his hand on the leather seat beneath her, between her thighs. Finn gulped as she hitched the edges of her skirt up a bit higher as her other hand moved over against his chest. Her legs were almost fully exposed, except for the brief amount of lacy pantie he saw creeping out from under her skirt.

It wasn't as though he was some weirdo, he was her boyfriend. It was normal behaviour.

"Finn..." she trailed off, grabbing his hand that rested near her center and intertwining it with her own.

The guy kept his focus straight ahead; trying to keep his full attention on the road before him. He failed. "Yeah?" his shaky voice asked her in return.

He wasn't a whimp, he wasn't a nervous guy. Rachel wasn't someone that ever showed how she felt, who ever let on when she was horny. But Finn was a guy and he wasn't going to let her new attitude get to him. He failed.

He couldn't help it; anything sexual was new to their relationship. They hadn't even made it past second base. Rachel had wanted to keep their relationship at a steady level, she wanted to make sure that they were perfectly comfortable with each other before she let him get anywhere. Of course being the teenage guy that he was, Finn had hormones. He wanted things, he wanted sex. He wanted her. But he'd wait, and he'd told her that. So many times. The times when she'd felt ugly, when she'd felt unwanted, when she'd felt that she wasn't enough for him. She had always had this fear of him running of with a cheerleader because of how easy they were, and how pretty they were.

She never had anything to worry about.

She was it for him.

Finn knew what he wanted; he wanted her. Her. Rachel. Rachel Berry. He wanted all of her. Her mind. Her body. Her heart. Her children. Her hand in marriage. Her.

She was perfect for him. You could argue that they were complete opposites, but he believed it when people said that opposites attracted. She's smart, he's not the sharpest tool in the shed. She's beautiful, he finds himself pretty average. She's short and petite, he's tall and awkward. She's loud and mouthy, he's quiet and peaceful. She's determined, he doesn't know what he wants. But he admires her, he likes the way she dreams so big. He likes her. He likes the way she smiles when she's happy. He likes the way her mouth curls when she's sad. He likes the way she claps her hands when she's excited. He likes the way her hair falls down past her shoulders. He likes the way she dresses, sequin legwarmers and stuff. He likes the way she talks about everything so passionately. He likes her. He loves her.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, her voice softly teasing him. She looked up at him dangerously, running her hand over his heart before fiddling with the top button of his shirt. It popped. So did the second.

"Rach-" he started, trying to catch his breath as he realized what she was trying to start.

He couldn't deny it; if she was in her right mind, he'd take her by the side of the road, on the bench seat of his crappy truck. But he wouldn't Because she was drunk, she didn't know what she wanted right now. He wasn't going to let her do something that she'd later regret. He wouldn't.

"We can't." he told her, shaking his head slowly as he spoke. She ignored his words, instead choosing to undo another button on his shirt.

Five open. One more.

"What on earth are you talking about?" It was an innocent question, but her tone was covered in something not-so-innocent.

"Rach-"

"Finn. Let me." she ordered him, grabbing his hand that held the wheel. He stopped the car on the side of the road.

What was he doing?

They've only had sex once, or _made love_ as she chose to call it, and that wasn't in the best of places or circumstances, and he shouldn't let her have their second time in his truck.

Rachel moved a leg over to the other side of his body, straddling his lap. She placed her hands against his chest. Leaning down, she tilted his head up to connect their lips together passionately. Her hair fell down, tickling the sides of his face. Finn groaned as she ground into him, her hips gently thrusting against his.

She grabbed his hand and moved it between her legs again. She pulled her skirt higher, her panties becoming fully visible. Finn gulped as he pressed his fingers to her center. Rachel moaned, her other hand wrapping around the curve of his neck to bring him closer, if possible.

The final button popped.

She pulled the shirt from his chest, throwing it down on the floor after tugging it from his arms as he cupped her ass between his hands. He couldn't help it.

Pulling away, Finn pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, "We can't do this." he warned her, holding her in place on his lap.

Rachel rolled her eyes, "Yes, we can. Watch." He didn't get another word in before she'd dragged him up roughly, her tongue finding its way into his mouth hungrily. He let out another groan at the feel of her teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

Ring.

The girl shrieked as her cell phone buzzed from her jacket. Locating the object within her pocket, she pulled it out, answering the call, "Hello?" her tone was mildly irritated.

"Get home. Now."

Crap. Her dad.

"What- Dad, please-"

The man shook his head on the other end of the line, "No, now! Do you have any idea how worried we were when we didn't find you in your bed?" he shouted back down the phone.

"Fine, whatever. I'll be there soon."

She hung up.

"I have to go home."

Finn mentally thanked her father, otherwise he might have done something he'd have seriously regretted. Picking his shirt up from the floor as she sat back down on her end of the seat, he shrugged it on and ran a hand through his hair. Rachel fidgeted with her skirt, making sure that it covered most of her thighs. She didn't want her fathers to know what she'd been up to. It wasn't that they didn't like Finn, they did. They liked him a lot. But she figured that their daughter badly dressed after a make-out session with her boyfriend wasn't something that they planned on seeing.

He turned the keys in the lock, started up the car again. Finn pulled away from the lane of grass by the road, getting the car back on track. He heard Rachel groan from beside him; she was clearly upset about having to cut their seance short.

He didn't see it coming.

The lorry.

The lights.

The crash that was about to happen.

The life that he was about to lose.

He didn't see it coming.

Bang.

* * *

She didn't know how it happened.

The last thing that she remembered was being in the car with Finn. She licked her lips, feeling his taste on her tongue.

She didn't know how it happened.

She didn't know.

She doesn't know.

Rachel turned her head to the side gently, spotting one of her athers sat in the chair beside her bed.

Her bed?

A hospital bed?

What happened?

Why was she in a hospital?

"D-Daddy?" she asked slowly, her voice breaking with roughness.

The man's head lifted up quickly, his eyes lighting up as he saw his daughter. She was awake.

Thank God.

"Oh, Sweetie." he dragged his chair closer to her, clasping her hand between both of his own. "Are you okay? Do you remember what happened?"

It was a lot to take in.

She shook her head, closing her eyes when the light became to much to bare. "No."

Hiram nodded with a soft smile, squeezing her hand tighter, "That's OK, Honey."

She didn't understand.

What had happened exactly?

She was a patient, she knew that much. But how had she gotten here? Was she ill? Was there an accident?

"Daddy, whe- where's Finn?"

The man swallowed a breath, diverting his eyes down to the tiled floor.

What did that mean?

What happened?

"Daddy?" she pushed him again, her forehead creasing with confusion.

He looked up at her, but his eyes avoided hers. He didn't know what to say.

What was he supposed to say?

"Sweetie, I have-"

"Where's Finn?" she interrupted him, sitting herself up slowly in her bed, gasping softly as her back pained her. The pain was worth it, why hadn't he answered her? She knew that Finn was with her whenever what happened, happened. Finn was with her. He was always with her.

And if she was okay, so was he.

Right?

"He's- umm..."

"What?"

"Sweetie, I'm so sorry." he told her quickly, a tear trailing down his cheek as he spoke. He had to get it out fast, or he never would be able to. He had to rip off the band-aid.

Rachel gulped, the reality of it all not kicking in.

No. No.

No.

No.

He couldn't- No.

He couldn't be.

No.

"He- No." she started, tears starting to form in her eyes as she registered what he'd told her, "No. No. No!"

Gulp.

"Rachel,-"

"No. No! No!"

Tears streamed down her face. It was impossible. It couldn't be.

"No! Not Finn, no! No!"

Her breath hitched high as she cried, her vision becoming blurry from the tears.

"Not him, no! Please God, no! No! No! No, no, no, no, no!"

She couldn't have lost him. No.

She couldn't have.

He was her Finn. Her everything. Her boyfriend. Her best friend. The perfect person for her. The perfect man. The guy she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. The guy she wanted to have a family with. The guy she'd give up everything for. The love of her life. He was Finn, her Finn. Her perfect Finn. Her everything.

No.

And her heart broke.

* * *

**(2010)**

**(December 20th, 13: 23pm)**

"Finn Hudson was a beloved son, brother and friend to us. He was a great person." Noah Puckerman started. He'd been friends with Finn since they were babies, their mothers had shared the same pregnancy classes and the same doctors. "He was my best friend. He was my brother. Not, you know, biologically or anything, but he was my brother. He was always there for me and I never really returned the favor. But now, I'm going to. I am doing. I love you, man. See you soon."

Rachel cried. She was stood at the front of the group beside his mother, Carole, and his step-brother, Kurt. She hadn't gone near the casket, she couldn't it was strange. He was in there, she couldn't believe it. She refused to believe it.

As the ceremony ended, numerous friends and distant family members started to walk away, many crying as they left.

She couldn't leave.

She wouldn't

She couldn't.

She refused to.

As Carole and Kurt gave her some space and backed away, she knelt down beside the freshly dug hole.

She held the single red rose between her fingertips, twirling it around slowly. Tears fell from her eyes as she looked down, she placed the rose down beside her legs and clasped her hands together. She'd pray.

She would pray.

She would pray.

Some people would say that it was stupid. That it was useless to pray for someone that was already gone, to pray for someone that clearly wasn't going to get any better.

She didn't care.

She didn't care, because she'd given up caring.

So, she prayed. She prayed for life. She prayed for him to live in peace. She prayed for him to be okay up there. She wanted him to be okay. She wanted him to be safe.

Rachel squeezed her eyes tighter, hand hands holding each other roughly. She ached, but she didn't care. She didn't care anymore. She didn't care about anything anymore. She'd already lost everything, what was there to care about? Sure, she loved her family and her friends, but that wasn't the same thing.

He was the person she loved the most in the entire world, and she'd lost him.

She'd lost him. He was gone.

So, she prayed. She prayed for him to come back to her.

The rose landed on the coffin.

* * *

**(2012)**

**(December 21st)**

_You're always in my head_

_You're just what I wanted_

_I live in constant debt_

_To feel you, invented_

As she sang the words, she closed her eyes.

She never thought that she'd be here.

She never thought that she'd be where she was right now.

She'd always assumed, everyone had always assumed, that she'd end up on some Broadway stage, win a bunch of Tony's and have a great career.

How wrong they were.

How wrong she was.

She never thought that she'd end up here.

She never thought that she'd be singing in a small bar, on the corner of a street in her New York neighborhood. At least she's gotten the area right.

Once upon a time, she'd dreamed of being famous. She'd dreamed of having her name up in the bright lights. She'd dreamed of being a star.

But she'd given up on that dream a long time ago.

Ten years ago.

As the audience clapped, she sent the kind people a small smile and descended from the dark stage. She walked over to the bar and greeting the barman.

He was a friend of hers, a close friend. His name was Blaine Anderson, he'd meant him through Kurt, his boyfriend. It was Blaine that had gotten her the job as the bar's singer.

"You OK, Streisand?" he asked, the nickname teasing her former self.

Rachel sat down on a stool, taking a sip of the drink he'd just passed her. Vodka and Coke.

"I've been better."

Today was not a good day. Not only had she been on stage for the whole day nearly, she had a date in about, one hour, with some guy that Kurt had hooked up for her. She didn't know the guy, it was purely a blind date. Kurt had told her that he was sick of her moping, that two years was enough. He understood where she was coming from, of course, but kept telling her that he would have wanted her to move on.

He might have.

But she didn't want to.

"You going go get ready?" Blaine asked her, raising an eyebrow as he watched her down the drink. He chuckled at the face she pulled.

"Do I have to?" she questioned back.

"I think Kurt just might murder you if you don't." he teased, retrieving the glass from her hands and placing it under the tap behind him. Rachel watched him as he walked over to another customer, serving them a bottle of water. He turned back around to Rachel and gave her a weird look.

She softly smiled, getting up from her seat. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow." she leaned over the bar counter and kissed him on the cheek, resting a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. Jumping back down, she started her trek towards the door. She waves a hand behind her to bid her farewell as she shrugs on her coat with one arm.

"Bye, Streisand."

* * *

"So, I told her that I didn't care if she wanted to be just friends. I wanted her back, you know? I mean, we were together for four years and this bitch just calls it quits. You know what I mean?" the guy asked her, taking a huge bite of his chunk of steak.

Rachel blanked him out, her eyes instead focusing on the various couples around her.

How did she get here?

How did she end up on a date with this guy?

Oh right, Kurt.

"You know?" he repeated the question again, snapping his fingers rudely in her face.

She was brought back out of her trance and glared at him, picking up her glass of wine and taking a big sip.

"No, I don't know. And you know what?" She questions, throwing her hands up in the air out of irritation. "Instead of going out with me, or any other girl for that matter, maybe you should try getting over her first. OK?" she asked back, standing up from her seat and throwing her napkin down on the table. "Thank you for dinner. _It_ was lovely, but, unfortunately, I can't say the same about you."

She walked away from the table, and past the main doors of the restaurant, outside into the cool weather.

This was a complete mistake. She could kill Kurt for having made her go on the date.

She turned the corner, finding herself already on her street. She thanked her stars for living so close to the restaurant; she really wasn't in the mood for walking.

* * *

Rachel grabbed the keys out of her purse and turned them into the lock, letting herself into her apartment building. It wasn't big, but it wasn't studio size either. It was just big enough for her; one bedroom, one bathroom; a small living room combined with the kitchen.

She walked up the two flights of stairs that it takes to get to her floor, and grabs the banister when she reaches the top. Her heels are killing her feet. She takes them off and carries them in her hand for the next few steps. Resting a hand on the door-frame to steady herself, she turns her key in the lock.

Walking through and shutting it behind her, she throws her bag down carelessly on the table beside the door. She placing the keys down on top of it and locks the door with the clasp. She doesn't even care if Kurt tries to get through later, he isn't coming in. No one is. She's planning on being alone for the rest of the night. It's already ten o'clock at night. She would usually be asleep by now, but she can't find it within her to rest.

She paddles into her bedroom, placing her shoes back into her wardrobe and pulling out her favourite nightie. It's black and stops mid-thigh. It's silk, but the top's lace. It's comfortable, and she's settled for it.

Within the sake of two minutes, she's out of her dress and into her nightgown. She pushed her arms through the sleeves of a thick grey cardigan to keep her body warm. She pulls her hair out of the bun and lets the strands fall freely over her shoulders. She sweeps her bangs to the side, behind her right ear. She whipes away the tiniest bit of make-up that she was wearing and throws the towelette in the trash.

Making her way through to the kitchen part of her make-shift apartment, Rachel pours her kettle full of water and boils it. She's having tea.

She waits for the drink to heat and mix before wandering into her living room and settling the cup down on her small coffee table. She rummages through a pile of books she's collected over the years and pulls one out. The Notebook. She's never read it.

She doesn't know why.

She settles herself down in the corner of her sofa, snuggled up in her cardigan with her cup of green tea.

It doesn't take long for her to fall asleep. The cup's fallen over on the floor, there's no spill. The book's thrown on the couch, on a random page. She's in a ball on the sofa, her hair sprawled out and her clothes pushed away.

She jumps up when she hears someone knocking on her door.

Fucking Kurt.

Groaning, she slowly gets up from her position and glances at the small clock on the wall.

23:45pm

Her cardigan's hanging loose over her body and her hair's in disarray. Her breath smells of tea and the faintest bit of mascara on her face is smudged.

"What?" She swings the door open, letting it slam back against the wall. She sounds pissed off and she has the right to be.

The man makes his way into her apartment, shaking his head unbelievably as he takes a seat down on her couch. He crosses his legs slowly and carefully picks up the abandoned book laying beside him.

Kurt sends her an unkind expression, clearly judging her choice of novel, "Seriously?" He raises an eyebrow questionably and Rachel sighs a deep breath as she shuts the door again.

"What do you want, Kurt? I was sleeping."

He licks his lips, "Sam told me the date didn't go amazingly."

"Really, he did?" She teases sarcastically, mocking a shocked gasp.

He rolls his eyes and pats the couch next to him, inviting her to sit down, on her own couch. She does, leaning herself back against the cushion material and breathing out heavily.

"What happened?"

"He was an ass-hole, that's what happened."

It's as simple as that and Kurt doesn't even bother to pry.

He meant right by setting her up with the guy, he had her best intentions at heart. But the girl was dead-set on being miserable, and locked-up to herself, and he wasn't sure that he could actually do anything to help her out of her funk.

Kurt knows what she's going through.

It's been hard on all of them, incredibly so.

His father isn't the same; he's always comforting Carol because the woman is distraught as has no idea how to even begin to move on.

His friends have changed. No one hangs out like they used to.

Everything is different and he's not sure if he can get used to the fact that this is how things are now, that nothing will ever go back to the way it was.

Nothing.

He's dealing, in the best way he can. Still. It seems like it was only yesterday that he got the news, yet at the same time he feels as though a whole lifetime has passed him by ever since and he wishes he could go back and change some things that he knew he did wrong.

He figures that Rachel is dealing the worst.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I'm good." She shakes her head, obviously not understanding what he's asking her.

He rests a hand on her leg, a finger tapping against the ball of her knee, "No, you know what I mean." He voices quietly and he can tell so she's already so close to breaking down, because that's all she can do.

He's too late to reach for a tissue because the tears are already streaming down her face and she's trying her hardest and her best to wipe them away, to brush off any dejected emotion that was becoming apparent.

Kurt wraps an arm around her shoulders and she falls into his chest, sobbing wet tears over his shirt, but he doesn't care.

He doesn't care, because she's his best friend, and she needs him.

And he'll do everything he can to make her feel treasured.

Because it's all he can do.

* * *

She decides that it's finally time to move on.

A few hours after Kurt leaves, she makes the decision.

She can't sit around all day by herself in the dark and mope about.

She can't keep waiting for him to come back... because he never will.

Rachel walks into her bedroom, a glass of Ice-Tea in her hand, and sits herself down on the carpeted floor. She places her glass down on the bedside table, slipping a coaster beneath it. She takes a sharp breath before removing the lid off of the box.

Two years ago, she'd received boxes full of his things that his mother had passed along to her. She told her that he'd had wanted her to have everything he did, because she was everything to him.

The words only made Rachel feel even worse about taking a young man's belongings away from his grieving mother.

The words only made her feel worse at the thought of not having him around any longer.

She kept the boxes tucked away in her own possessions when she'd made the move into her small apartment.

She'd moved in about four months after the funeral.

She couldn't live in the house, the one where they'd shared so many loving memories.

She couldn't stay in her bedroom, the one where they'd made love for the first time.

She couldn't stay in the neighbourhood, the one that they'd shared together.

It seemed silly, but she couldn't get over the little things.

But, now, she could.

And she was determined to do so.

She'd stashed the boxes away in the back of her closet once she moved; she told herself that she wouldn't be able to open them until the time came to march on, to progress and leave her past behind. The best she could, at least.

It was time, she'd decided, she'd made up her mind.

Rachel removed the cardboard lid, placing it down on the floor beside her.

She fished her fingers inside gently, pulling out an old photo.

She could feel tears springing to her eyes as she stared down at the picture.

It was of them, back in their senior year of high school, not too long ago.

The photo had been taken by Puck, after the Glee Club's win at Nationals.

A lump forms in her throat and and she hiccups the sob, tilting her head to the side with a slight smile as she remembers.

They were so happy. It had only been a week before they graduated. She recalls the way he'd cheered and whooped like a child once they'd won, and he'd kissed her senseless as though the world was going to end.

It did.

Hers did, at least.

Santana had split them up, claiming that it was unnecessary to see the Giant and the Hobbit making out for the whole nation to see on television.

They didn't care.

She places the picture down, unsure of what to do with it.

Moving on meant letting go of everything, right?

She just wasn't sure if she could do that.

The rest of the items inanimate: an old baseball, a three-year old ticket to see Rock of Ages (the first Broadway musical they'd seen together; she remembers how he'd actually enjoyed it), a few more picture of him and some friends from the football team, his acceptance letter to NYU. She reminds herself of the time that they'd planned their big move to New York together after he'd been accepted into the university and she'd gotten into Nyada, the first choice.

The rest was just a bunch of old papers and such: a few old letters from his mum, some that his father had sent while on service in Iraq.

She can't possibly throw any of this out.

She can't. It wouldn't be right and she doesn't want to.

She doesn't want to move on, she thinks.

The brunette runs a hand through her hair and decides to slowly put the stuff back to store away in her closet again.

She licks her lips before grabbing the papers and approaching them to the box, but her eyes catch an envelope in the bottom of the box, almost blending in with the base of the cardboard.

Her fingers grasp the sealed note and she picks it up, bringing it closer to her. She wonders why it's never been opened before and why is it was stashed away in the bottom.

She flicks the envelope over, blinking her eyelids a few times as she reads the name written across the front.

_Rachel._

The girl frowns for a slight second, curious as to what's possibly inside the slip.

The realizes how deep she's in when she finds herself missing his writing, the soft curls in his letters.

She misses everything about him.

A finger slides in the slit, treading along the crease as it opens for her. She flips the top open and pulls a piece of paper out, and she unfolds it carefully.

_Dear Rachel,_

_I know that you'll think that this is probably crazy, but I really don't care. And I know that you're probably going to freak out and start saying really smart things that I don't understand and, yet again, I really don't care. I'd tell you that I don't care that you talk like a little kid that's high on sugar. That I don't care about the way you dress (you know I like those skirts and knee-highs). That I don't care about the way you get angry about the little things. But I'd be lying, because I love all of those things simply because they make you, _you_. And I love you, so I love all of those things too._

She casts her gaze wander across the room as she wonders when he could have written this.

And, more importantly, why.

A smile appears on her face and tears start to fall from her face. She softly laughs to herself, he always had a way with words.

She misses the way he used to talk to her like that.

She misses the way he didn't care about everything she did wrong, the way he'd say it was all right because she was perfect anyway.

She misses the way he used to tell her he loved her all of the time.

Rachel continues the letter, her eyes paying attention to every letter and every word intently,

_I could go one for days, and you know that, but I won't. I'll try and make this as fast as I can because you get impatient really easily and I'm already nervous as it is._ _When you read this, I'll be away with Puck and the rest of the guys for our game against West High. I'll make it up to you when I get back, I promise. ;)_

_It's probably easier this way; I won't be embarrassed if you reject me._

A thousand thoughts cross her mind as she thinks of what he could possibly be talking about.

She'd never reject him.

_I love you, you know that. And I know that you love me too, so please, make this easy for me._

_I can't wait for us to start our life together in New York. I know it's always been your dream since you were, like, born or something, but I've never really had any ambition. I've never really wanted anything... until I met you._

Tears fall faster down her face as she reads the rest of his note. She wipes the wetness away but it drips on the paper, smudging a few words and she struggles to read them.

_You changed me, and I'm going to make it up to you for the rest of my life, I promise. I know what I want now, and I know what I have. I don't have great dreams like you, I don't have an incredible talent like you do. I don't have a back-up plan, I don't even have a plan. I just... I have you. I have you, and that's enough for me. You're all I'll ever need._

She throws herself back against the side of her bed, slightly crinkling the note in her hands as she cries.

She doesn't understand how the world is so cruel as to take him from her.

She doesn't understand how the universe works in evil ways.

She needs him, she always will.

But fate played a bad trick on her and she's alone.

She won't move on.

Rachel hates the world. She doesn't like the way someone up there toyed with her world, took everything that she ever wanted away.

She doesn't want Broadway. She doesn't want her voice. She doesn't want New York.

Not if he's not there to share it with her.

It all means nothing without him.

_Marry me?_

Her breath hitches and she covers her mouth with her hand. Her body shakes at the words. It can't be real.

It can't be.

He can't have asked her that.

He can't have asked her to marry him.

He can't have.

No. No.

No.

No.

Her mind flashes back to the time her father had told her the news, the horrible news that changed her whole life for the worst.

It can't be real.

It can't be, because if it was, she'd be happily married by now with the perfect husband whom she loved more than anything.

Her body shakes and trembles as she realizes what she lost.

She doesn't wonder why he never gave her the letter. It doesn't matter, what matters is those last two words that she never got to hear him ask.

She lost the love of her life and she'll never see him again. She never even got to say yes.

The world works in cruel ways.

Rachel hates the world.

She clasps the letter in one hand and kneads the forgotten envelope in her other, holding onto them with everything she has.

"No," She breaths.

The envelope creases and she frowns out of curiosity when she feels something inside.

She pulls the small object out, biting her lip as her vision becomes blurry from the tears.

"No, God!"

She holds the ring in her hand, clasping it tightly.

It's beautiful and her eyes manage to catch the engraving.

_Forever yours, faithfully._

She cries harder, her lips trembling as she lets out screams and cries of sadness.

This can't be real.

Rachel lays herself down on the ground, curling her legs up to her chest and clasping the ring in her hand.

She toys with it, twirling it around her fingers.

She can't do this, she can't move one.

It's beautiful and she's never going to let go of it.

She gulps as she delicately places the engagement ring on her wedding finger.

More uncontrollable tears streaming down her face.

"Finn," She whispers, "I love you."

She clasps his letter in one hand and the photo of them in the other.

She can't move on.


End file.
